Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 17
Claire used her teeth to free a hairband from her wrist and twisted it around the end of Kouris' immaculately braided hair. She didn't say anything right away, leaving me with time to wonder if she braided Sen's hair, too. When she did speak, there was an edge of bitterness to it. I didn't blame her. Kouris and I had been gone for years, and we'd got to be together.
“There is still much to be apprised of. Names, in particular,” she said.
“Varn's a...”
I lost the end of my sentence to a yawn.
“She's a pirate. Ex-pirate, or so she's saying. Thing is, once you're a pirate, you're always a pirate,” Kouris jumped to explain. “Even if you're turning it all around and going to work for Queen Nasrin herself. Now, I'm not suggesting that she ain't loyal, because Varn learnt all about that from her mother, but there's plenty for a Queen to find useful in a pirate. Varn doesn't waste time thinking about things in terms of right and wrong.”
“It sounds like a fascinating agreement,” Claire said, tucking loose strands of hair behind Kouris’ flattened ears. “Do you think a band of loyal pirates might lend their aid to a Felheimish Princess?”
Kouris snorted, and even with things soft and light but dry all at once, the weight of my eyelids pulled me under. One moment I was trying to focus on Claire and Kouris, and the next, blinking was an insurmountable obstacle. I drifted, drifted, until I focused on the shape of Kouris stood over me, arms outstretched.
“C'mon, yrval. Let's be getting you to a real bed,” Kouris said, scooping me up as though I were nothing. I felt like nothing: like a tangled web of light, fighting to escape a form that only had meaning in relation to the two other people in the room. No wonder I was tired. No wonder. I had sacrificed sleep for closeness on the way out of Agados, and the result had left me more drained than the ale barrels in Siren Song. “Oof. Here.”
Claire's ridiculously elaborate bed sunk beneath me, but I didn't want Kouris' arms to leave. There was not much that made sense to me, not of late, but as I wrapped my arms around Kouris' wrist, I felt less unsettled by the notion of having to eventually join the waking world once more.
“If that's how it's gonna be,” Kouris said. “Good thing they make royal beds so big, Princess.”
Claire laughed through her nose as Kouris swivelled onto the bed.
“Do not call me that,” she said evenly. “Your Majesty.”
“Right,” Kouris said, in such a way that I could hear her eyes rolling. She slung an arm around me and said, “Guess I'm still outranking you, aye.”
“Indeed.”
Claire stood stiffly by the side of the bed, and I burrowed against Kouris' chest. It was just like Canth, but it wasn't. A blanket had been draped over me, but the warmth there was comforting, not stifling. Kouris was close to me, but I couldn't feel her soft, leathery skin against mine, contact made almost unbearable by the humidity in the air; the sticky heat that worked to bind us together; the half of the beach we'd brought home with us, sand lining the creases of the covers.
It was just like Canth, but I didn't have to wish that I'd stayed in Isin. That I'd gone back for Claire, or at least knew if she was alive. I didn't have to dwell on those thoughts or force them from my mind, until the inside of my head was void and my dreams echoed the same desperate, aching loneliness.
Claire was there. I was succumbing to the exhaustion of necromancers, but she was there and I was letting her stand behind us like a statue.
I held out an arm towards her.
“Claire,” I mumbled.
“It's three in the afternoon,” she replied curtly.
“Don't care.”
She relented.
The mattress dipped beneath me, and I felt her hand press between my shoulder blades.
I stuttered through sleep, drifting away for fragments of time that could've been minutes or seconds. I tossed and turned, burying my face against Kouris' chest or Claire's neck, and somehow managed to catch snippets of what they were saying.
“It would be funny,” Claire began in that voice that said it absolutely wouldn't be, “If after all of this, after being kept in the dark, King Garland died and we discovered I was no longer heir to the throne. That Rylan had been named, or even some distant cousin Queen Aren could keep under thumb.”
“How likely do you reckon that is?” Kouris asked, voice soft so as not to disturb me. “You got something to base this on, or is that just your paranoia talking again?”
“It's plausible,” Claire decided. “There are a hundred reasons to justify it. I was gone. I was not here, on the front lines of Felheim, throughout this unrest. I was the leader of a group still known as rebels, as though I myself was part of Kastelir. The King could say I was no longer capable, with my impairments, or that the people ought to wait until I was settled, or sober...”
I tightened my arms around Claire and she patted the back of my head, thinking my timing coincidental.
“Yeah,” Kouris eventually agreed. “They could say a lot. But if that's the case, why is Aren trying so hard to keep you from Garland?”
“Lulling us into a false sense of security?” Claire suggested. “Distracting us by letting us believe that power really could be ours.”
Kouris sighed.
“I know,” Claire agreed. “I love my mother, but I do not trust her.”
And then, later:
“If I am to become Queen, the first thing I shall do is reset the calendar,” Claire said, in response to something. Hazily, I wondered if Kouris had told her what she'd done first, after being crowned. “It is foolish to measure time from the creation of the Bloodless Lands, letting the faded, misunderstood past define us.”
“What's gonna define us, then?”
“Rebirth. Creating something from the ashes,” she said without hesitation. She'd put real thought into this. “The Age of the Phoenix.”
“Trust you to be coming up with that,” Kouris said. “Haru-Taiki's gonna love it, though. Maybe a little too much. And with the Phoenix Festival coming up, the timing couldn't be better...”
I dreamt of Halla. I dreamt that she was in the castle, waiting for me at the bottom of an endless flight of stairs. And why wouldn’t she be? Why would she ever want to stay in Agados, in her dull slab of a tower, with Tirok and the guards and the King when she could be free? That’s what she told me. She stood there, arms outstretched, repeating it over and over. Why wouldn’t she?
I jolted, but didn’t wake entirely. The top of my head hit the underside of Kouris’ jaw, and she hushed me between her fangs, claws lightly grazing the back of my neck.
“I worry about her,” Claire said, voice barely reaching a whisper. How convinced she must’ve been that I was truly asleep to speak so openly. “Agados, Canth. Kastelir, Felheim. She has never visited a country that has treated her with true kindness.”
“You're plenty enough to make up for that Felheimish part, and I like to think I drown out some of the bad in Kastelir,” Kouris said. “And we can't be blaming ourselves for Agados. No one should be held responsible for that. But aye. This ain't been easy on any of us. Never has. When I was her age, I was raising armies. Losing battles and friends and soldiers and winning wars. But whatever happens, we've got to be remembering that she isn't the same kid you ran away with in the night. She's changed, and it's not all for the worse.”
“But the point remains that she has changed, and I have missed so much of it.”
“There'll be plenty more changing for all of us. Think of all the years you can have together. Decades, if you want ‘em,” Kouris reassured her. “Once this is all done, we'll drag you down to Port Mahon. Give you a repeat performance of piracy.”
“I should like that,” Claire said, smile in her voice. “I learnt Canthian when I was younger because it was fashionable in court at the time, despite having no real contact with the Canthians. I ought to put the language to good use, sometime.”
“Better make sure you're not rusty,” Kouris warned her. “Reis is probably gonna go ahead and forget Mesomium, if it means getting to show up royalty.”
When I awoke in earnest, I had to deal with the disorientation the darkness beyond the windows brought. Kouris was gone, though she hadn’t moved far. Body rested, my senses had stopped bleeding into one another, and I could hear her whistling airily between her fangs in the main chamber.
Claire was in bed with me, still pressed to my back. She draped an arm across my waist and rested her chin on my shoulder, so that she could read the book she had propped open in front of me. I didn't think it could be any sort of story. The words were too small, the pages far from creased by hurried, eager hands, and Claire read so slowly she must've been forcing herself to pay attention to whatever it was. Political matters. Details of debts and accounts.
Whatever secrets the book held would ultimately help put Claire on the throne, and I did my best not to let the change in my breathing pattern tell her my dreams were over.
I didn't want to be awake. I didn't want to be clear-headed enough to feel the weight of what was happening and what had happened, and I didn't want to explain why I had come home and said nothing, jaw tight, eyes red and heavy.
“You're awake,” Claire eventually said, in spite of my best efforts. I tensed, almost forgetting who she was, but she would never carve answers out of me. “For good, this time?”
“I hope so,” I murmured as I rolled over.
“Several hours ago, you said the same thing,” Claire said, planting a kiss on my forehead. The book fell shut with a soft thwump of pages, and I pressed my face to the side of her neck. “You also insisted that Oak was taking a bath in Akela's chambers.”
I laughed, short and sputtery, and Claire tapped the side of my arm as she sat up.
“Come. Kouris has prepared dinner.”
“Don't you have servants for that?” I asked, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. It felt good to be able to feel my feet again. “Or don't you trust them?”
“If anyone were to poison me, it would only be a minor setback,” she said, smoothing out the creases in her shirt.
I frowned. It would've been the perfect time for her to claim that she trusted her mother not to kill her, but the nonchalance with which she brushed off the idea of assassination left me feeling cold. I began to wonder if something tremendous had unfolded throughout the short weeks I'd been gone.
The meal Kouris had made consisted of surprisingly delicate sandwiches, considering the size of her fingers and the length of her claws, along with a serving of fresh fruit. I was glad it was so simple. I had little faith in being able to stomach a hot meal, and with a yawn to shake the last of my endless sleep away, I settled down on the sofa.
I picked up a sandwich, brought it to my mouth, and a knock at the door stopped me from taking the first bite. Claire stood to attention and opened the door to her mother, flanked by the Mansels.
I put my food back down, appetite shrivelled.
“Your Majesty,” Claire said, bowing her head in greeting. “It's late. How might I help you?”
“Claire,” the Queen said, wasting no time on pleasantries. “I see your companion has returned from wherever you sent her.”
She didn't have to look at me to talk about me.
“I did not send her anywhere. She simply had an errand to run,” Claire said, hands clasped neatly behind her back.
“An errand to run with the former Queen of Kastelir?” Queen Aren asked. Behind her, the Mansels had lost all pretence of posture and were poking the trinkets atop one of Claire's cabinets. “The important thing here, Claire, is that you intentionally put Eden in danger. She may not have become my daughter by law, but that does not mean I do not love her like one. Now. You came here, asking for my help, and insist on keeping secrets from me. Where did you send them, Claire?”
I wanted to scream that we hadn't gone to Thule to ask for help, but it was difficult to address someone who spoke not as though I wasn't there, but as though I was of so little consequence that anything could be said around me.
“As I have said, they were attending to personal matters. Eden and Rowan have struck up quite the friendship, and it is not my place to tell Eden where she may or may not go. What is it that you wanted? It is rather late, Your Majesty.”
Now Queen Aren looked at me.
“It certainly is,” she said, brow raised. “That bird of yours is causing problems all over the city. He is nothing but a distraction, diverting the people's attention from matters of importance and putting all manner of fanciful ideas in their heads.”
“He's a phoenix, and we are about to throw a festival in their name. He's thematically appropriate,” Claire argued. Kouris snorted a laugh as she picked the meat out of a sandwich and ate the bread by itself. “And if by fanciful ideas you mean the notion that the survivors from Kastelir are, indeed, living people who deserve necessities such as food, shelter and safety, then all the better.”
One of the Mansels stared at me, eyes narrowed in an exaggerated squint. I furrowed my brow and shrugged in reply, and she elbowed her sister in the side as she whispered in her ear.
“Claire. Darling. I know that your heart is in the right place, goodness knows it always is, but you have been away for too long. You have barely had the chance to go over our accounts, and our remaining forces are spread thin,” she said, despite the army she'd previously threatened us with. “We cannot sacrifice our own people for the Kastelirians. We would gain nothing and lose more than we can bear to part with. Not after the last two years. We do not have the resources, the space, the food.”
“Rowan's village is empty,” Claire said, gesturing towards me. “Hollowed out by a plague more than a year past. Send a healer. Make sure the air is clear. Hundreds of those who have lost their homes will be able to make new ones there.”
“We cannot give houses away,” Queen Aren said, voice dangerously close to shrill. “What about our own homeless? What are we to tell them? That the foreigners have more need of housing than they do?”
I didn't have to wonder how many times they'd had this argument. The slight raise of Claire's shoulders said enough. Her mouth twitched as she debated whether it was worth answering, but the way she sighed and adjusted her eyepatch told me she'd been unsuccessful a dozen times over.
“I will ask Haru-Taiki to refrain from spending so much time in the city once you permit me to see the King.”
Queen Aren stared at Claire as though she was a child, refusing to go to bed, and in possession of absolutely no leverage to be allowed to stay up for five more minutes. One of the Mansels tutted loudly, and if Queen Aren wasn't a Queen, she might well have rolled her eyes.
“He is in an awful way, darling. The healers are doing what they can, but his body and mind alike have a lot to contend with. Seeing Alex would be enough to sap the last of his strength from him. Seeing you would be enough to break his heart. It'd push him over the edge,” Queen Aren said. To her credit, she'd at least convinced herself it was the truth. “And call him what he is: your father.”
“Let me see my father,” Claire said. She didn't miss a beat, but her voice cracked at the end.
If anything would convince Queen Aren, it was that.
She remained silent, weathered the urge to relent, and said, “Amy.”
Springing to attention, Amy stepped forward, papers in hand. I kept my eyes trained on her, trying to find a way to discern between the Mansels, but neither of them had any obvious scars conveniently strewn across their faces.
She held the documents out and Claire took them with a great deal of care.
“The legislation you requested,” Queen Aren said. “If we are to continue to entertain so many pane, you ought to look into this matter properly.”
Claire nodded sharply, but all of her thoughts were fixed on her father.
Queen Aren made to leave, but stopped in the doorway.
“That's a lot of archaic writing to take in, Claire. You companions ought to return to their chambers for the night.”
“They are not my companions,” Claire said, staring at the papers in her hands. “They are my family, and you will not dismiss them. Go.”
“Very well. If you would sooner squander your time with farmers and pirates than work for the good of all pane,” Queen Aren said, marching from the room.
Kouris waved at her back and pushed herself to her feet.
“You got 'em all?” she asked Claire.
Claire said nothing, and did not look away from the door until Kouris wrapped an arm around her.
“Hm? Oh yes,” Claire said, placing a hand against Kouris’ chest. “This will make for some light reading.”
“Dinner first,” Kouris said, easing her towards the sitting area.
“What is it?” I asked, helping myself to a sandwich.
“The law that forbids pane from travelling together, once they are outside of their tribes,” Claire said, begrudgingly putting the papers down. “I have to understand it in order to overturn it.”
“What's there to understand?” I asked through a mouthful of food. “Doesn't it just say they can't travel together?”
Claire's hands had been hovering over the plate of sandwiches, but veered back towards the documents at my question. With a frown, she thumbed through the pages.
“It isn't quite as simple as that. It goes into great detail about what constitutes togetherness, a judgement which is unfortunately left in the eyes of the human who spots them, as well as loopholes where they cannot be together even in the mountains. If a human feels threatened by them on mountain paths or the outskirts of tribes, that can also constitute breaking the law. Then, of course, there is the matter of punishments; how to sentence a pane and how to discipline them for the infraction. Occasionally it is a financial matter, but more often than not the pane are escorted back to their tribes or... put to work.”
Claire put the document down, picked up a sandwich, but was too busy shaking her head to take a bite.
“We are no better than Agados, are we.”
“It's not looking good,” Kouris said. “But that's why we're doing this. Once we're getting through that, we're overturning one law, and then it's just a matter of using that all to get the pane our land back. One step at a time, aye?”
